Physical Graffiti
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: For the amazing sammysmissingshoe, on her birthday. Casefic, with emphasis on hurt!Sam. Takes place whenever. T for torture and language...it was supposed to be an easy case. In, out. Salt and burn. Simple, right?


A/N: _My longest one-shot ever, but I didn't want to split it into chapters. For the amazing sammysmissingshoe, on her birthday. If you don't read her stories, you really should. Especially Phoenix, because it's a work of genius and I love it. Anyway, she loves hurt Sam and casefics, so here's my lame attempt at it! huzzah! Enjoy; I actually did research for this :P_

_Takes place...whatever season you like, really it'll work in any of them. Personally, I see it in season five, but that's just because I'm partial. T for torture and a wee bit of language. Title is from the Led Zeppelin album, because, let's be real here, I'm obsessed with their music. _

_-Jaq_

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I own nothing except the candy corn I'm eating right now. Please don't sue me. I'm not making any money off of this. <strong>

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><p>"You said you wanted a job," Sam said, rolling his eyes and flipping the newspaper page from the crime section.<p>

"Yeah, I want a job. But not a- this," Dean replied, gesturing with the hand not holding the steering wheel.

"We've been driving for an hour, I'm pretty sure we lost the cops. We have _no reason_ not to go. There's no reason not to take it."

"Look, I just don't want to take it off of a hunch."

Sam rolled his eyes again, staring at his brother. Dean wouldn't meet his eyes, just stared ahead. "Three people have _died_, Dean. It's more than a hunch."

Dean made a noncommittal noise and sped up a little. "It's three hours away," he whined, and Sam knew he had won.

"We've driven ten for less. Come on."

Dean grunted and turned up the music, but Sam smiled as he turned onto the interstate.

Three hours later, they rolled into Harpertown, Tennessee. After choosing a shoddy-looking motel and unpacking, Dean threw himself on his bed.

"Remind me why we drove all the way out here?"

"Three people are dead. All young, single men, all within the same four-block radius," Sam rattled off, pulling out his laptop and opening it up.

"So, where do we start?"

"I'm looking up previous deaths in the area. Why don't you do the same?"

Dean didn't budge. "Why don't I hit the diner? You do the research, geek boy, and I'll get the grub."

"Don't go to the bar."

"You wound me. All I'm doing is going to get burgers, promise."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but continued to hack into the motel's wifi. Dean huffed and got up, groaning as he cracked his back. "Alright, Sammy, get lots of research done. I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Did you really just say 'jiffy?'"

Dean winked and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Sam sighed and returned to his laptop. Within another minute, he was in, and had wifi. Slow wifi, but it would suffice.

Harpertown, Tennessee. Sam looked into the town's history, searching for any deaths that could be the cause of a ghost.

Within fifteen minutes, he found something that looked likely. Priscilla Barnes, in 1988. According to the newspaper, she 'went insane,' and killed her next door neighbor, a 28 year old man.

Sam half-smiled. Well, at least it wasn't going to be hard. Maybe Dean would complain less if they had an easy case for a change.

He looked up Priscilla's background. She was reportedly very violent, from what he could gather. Kicked out of two schools for 'disruptive behavior,' and spent three nights in jail for fighting and public drunkenness. That she snapped and killed her neighbor, who had been involved in a property war with her, hadn't come as much of a surprise.

Sam found another article about the murder. He clicked on it.

The neighbor, a Jon Bating, had been eating dinner when he opened the door. Although there weren't any witnesses, Priscilla's fingerprints were found on his body (stabbed several times with his dinner knife). The autopsy record left much to be desired, however, since the cause of death was clearly the stabbing.

Sam frowned. Soon after, Priscilla had killed herself in prison while awaiting trial- stabbed herself with a knife she had somehow snuck from the kitchen. Not the moves of a murderer. Possessed, maybe? Or, maybe she really was insane. Whatever the cause, it seemed likely that her ghost was what was killing the other people.

Sam checked the time, and a frown creased his forehead. Almost an hour had passed already, and Dean still wasn't back with food.

He pulled out his cellphone and hit the speed dial. The phone didn't ring, just gave a funny beep and informed Sam that 'the number he was trying to reach was not available.'

Concern growing, Sam tried again, with the same results. Pulling on his coat, he jotted a quick note _j__ust in case_ Dean really was late and got to the motel, telling his brother to call him.

Once outside, Sam walked to the diner they had passed on their way in. Upon entering, a bell chimed, and the young woman behind the counter looked up. "Can I help you?"

Sam smiled. "Hi, I was wondering if you've seen another guy pass through here? It would have been within the last hour."

She frowned sympathetically. "Sorry, you're the first customer in a couple hours. Ever since that new place got put up a couple blocks away, we haven't had a lot of customers."

Another diner? Maybe Dean had seen it and decided to go there. "Thanks, anyway, Sam said, leaving.

The newer diner was clearly not something Dean would go for. It was flashy, with lots of complicated things on the menu, as well as a coffee bar that served well over a hundred types of coffee. All the waiters and waitresses wore purple aprons that read "Evan's, the best diner in town!"

Sam still checked, asking everyone he could find. Still no sign of his brother.

As a last option he checked the bar, but it was the same story. No, nobody fitting his brother's description had shown up in the past hour.

The only thing he could think of- and it wasn't a good thing- was that his brother had been taken by Priscilla's ghost. He did fit the description, after all- they both did.

Great.

He practically flew back to the motel room, opening his laptop and looking up information.

Priscilla had killed in a four-by-four block area just a little downtown, and her original house had been inside that. Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala, gunned the engine, and sped off, driving anxiously over.

He arrived in five minutes. After checking to make sure his pistol was loaded with iron bullets, and the demon-killing knife was in his back pocket (he didn't think it was demons, but it never hurt to be prepared), he strode off.

It was getting dark out, and nobody else was out on the streets. Light came from a couple apartments, but for the most part they were shut tight.

Sam tightened his grip on his gun.

All of a sudden, he felt the air grow colder, and he pulled the gun up to eye level, walking more carefully now. One of the dimly lit street lamps flickered.

"Hello?" Sam called, peering into the flickering darkness.

There wasn't a response, but he felt another chill, this one colder and longer than before.

Suddenly, an image flickered to his left. It was a young woman, about twenty or so. She had curly black hair and wore a frightened expression.

Sam remembered her from the web article. Raising his gun, he ventured. "Priscilla?"

"Run," the woman cried, flickering in and out of view. A crazed look appeared on her face, and she went pale. "Run, run, _run_."

Then, she flickered out and didn't reappear. Sam turned, confused, with the gun. She hadn't seemed hostile, but Sam guessed that she could be misleading him. No matter what, he didn't run. Running wouldn't help anything.

He pulled out his cellphone and called Dean once more, not very hopeful. Again, no answer. Sighing, he looked around cautiously.

There. Behind the building, a movement. Quietly, he crept up.

Muffled laughter. Sam's ears perked up, and he followed it. It came from inside the house, but there were several locks on the door.

Pulling out his lock pick, Sam knelt to the ground and got to work.

Come on, come on...two tumblers down..._click_. As the final tumbler sprang into place, the lock slid open.

Fifteen minutes later, all six locks were undone. With a grunt, Sam pulled open the door.

At first, it looked empty. As Sam's eyes adjusted to the (darker) darkness, however, he noticed a lone figure sitting by the wall.

Rushing over, he checked Dean's pulse. Normal. A quick once-over didn't show any injuries, but you never knew. Patting his brother's face, Sam whispered urgently. "Dean?"

Dean cracked an eyelid open. "Bitch," he croaked, closing the eye and smiling.

"Dean, what happened?"

"I...dunno..." Dean slurred, sinking back against the wall. "Think it was...hm. Drugs? Isn't that funny, Sammy?" He gave an eccentric giggle.

Sam pulled him to his feet, concerned. "Hey, you remember where out motel is?"

"Yeah."

"Go. _Run_, Dean."

Dean sauntered off, walking as if he was either very drunk or (more likely) drugged. As he left, Sam got an uneasy feeling. It wasn't likely that whatever had had Dean had just...let him go.

Sam kept his gun up and looked around. The building had a high ceiling, with rafters so far up that Sam couldn't see them clearly in the dark. Other than that, it was pretty plain.

"Hello?" he called, keeping the gun up.

There was a soft hissing noise, and a lithe figure fell from the rafters, landing on its feet.

Sam pointed the gun. "What the hell are you and what did you want with my brother?" he demanded.

"Your brother?"

Sam gave a curt nod, keeping the gun pointed at the young woman squatting on the floor.

"Well, if I'd known you would come, I obviously wouldn't have waited so long," she mused, standing. Glancing at the gun, she gave Sam a once-over. "But I made the right decision, I think. You'll do better."

"Better for what?" Sam asked, not taking the gun away. He didn't know what the woman was, but iron bullets certainly couldn't help it.

She smiled, and Sam saw that her teeth were pointed. Not like a vampire, more needle-like, but pointed all the same.

"Bullets? You really didn't come prepared, did you?" she said, still smiling.

Sam swallowed.

She flicked her wrist, and Sam immediately dove to the side. He was fast enough, but only barely. Sticking into the side of his jacket was a tiny spike, which Sam was sure was poisoned. He fired his gun, rolling to the side.

His aim wasn't off, but the woman just glanced down at the hole in her chest, shrugged, and stepped closer.

Sam ran, making a break for the door. Before he could get there, however, he felt a prick in his neck. He yanked out the spike, but it was too late. With a groan, he sank to the ground.

When Sam woke up, he was in another dark room, but it seemed smaller. He was tied to a chair, with his arms behind his back. Groggily, he blinked, trying to see.

"I'm glad you're awake. I really hate it when they're not awake," floated a voice out of the darkness. Sam struggled, his muscles all aching. It was probably whatever she had on the spike.

"Wha...Wha'did you do?" he slurred, the words coming out heavily.

"Poison. My own concoction. I'm basically Spider-Man, except I shoot poison spikes." She paused, and Sam heard feet walking towards him. When he felt a finger lightly touch his neck, he flinched. "I only gave your brother enough to make him loopy. He wasn't suspecting anything, and he was in public. But you...well, why'd you have to try and fight? You idiot. I'd kill you anyway."

"Why'd you let Dean go? Why not take us both, then?"

She shrugged. "Too much work to take two. And you're a lot bigger than your brother. We're in another place, anyway. He can't come and rescue you, or whatever. That poison'll give him a bitch of a headache in an hour."

Sam squirmed.

The woman- Sam still didn't even know what she was- stepped back, and Sam heard the soft scrape of a metal instrument being picked up. He stiffened.

"Keep still," she warned, her tone low and threatening.

Sam did, and she plunged a scalpel into his side.

Sam gave a short, breathy shout, grimacing and clenching his teeth.

"Stab wounds," he gritted between his teeth. "You covered your tracks."

She laughed, a delighted noise. "You figured that out? You're a hunter, aren't you. You and your brother."

"He'll kill you," Sam gasped.

"I doubt it."

She twisted the surgical knife, smiling as Sam gave another shout of pain.

"It's funny," she said, digging the knife in deeper. Sam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to somehow relieve the pain. "When a person is covered in stab wounds," she continued, "they never notice lancet wounds, or missing organs. People are so easy to deceive, you know."

Sam gritted his teeth, tensing.

"I mean, most of our kind are so /messy/. They dig in with their teeth, leave a mess behind...the whole nine yards. Me? I was the smart one of the family, that's for sure." She pulled out the scalpel, and Sam breathed short, right breaths, feeling rivulets of blood run down his side.

She hadn't hit anything yet, he was pretty sure. Just- caused a lot of pain.

Sam breathed out, and it hurt. In, and it hurt more.

"It's okay," she said. "In an hour, you'll be dead. Just think of that. It's like math class. You think, I only have to make it through this hour. Time won't slow for you. It'll all be over in an hour."

Sam really wanted to kill her. Unfortunately, even if he did somehow manage to escape, he had no idea how to do so.

She returned, placing one hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sit up straight."

Sam purposefully slouched, biting back a scream from pain of the jarring movement.

With a hiss, she dragged the scalpel down the side of Sam's face, letting it cut deep enough to scratch his cheekbone.

Sam screamed, and she nodded. "You want to sit up straight now?"

Sam breathed short and fast, shaking his head. The longer he could drag this out, the more time Dean had to come and find him...

With a flick, the scalpel made an identical cut on the other side of his face, and for some sick reason all Sam could think of was that scene from /A Princess Bride/

"My name is Inigo Montoya," he mumbled, smiling in spite of himself. He stopped smiling immediately, because it was excruciatingly painful, but he had just felt so much like /Dean/ just then.

"What? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Sit up straight."

Sam ground his teeth, tensing and preparing for another bout of pain.

He was not disappointed. The scalpel came down, on his collarbone this time. It hurt, but not as badly as his face.

Throwing the scalpel to the ground, she leaned closer. "I'll finish this in half an hour if you sit up straight," she breathed into his ear. "That's all you have to do."

So, don't sit up straight. Easy enough.

Sam's back hurt from the uncomfortable position, but he didn't budge.

Suddenly, she smiled again. Picking the scalpel back up from the floor, she turned to Sam's inner collarbone. Making a neat circle with the instrument, she drove the blade underneath Sam's skin, angled shallowly. Using her thumb, she gripped the skin above the knife and yanked her hand back.

Sam screamed again, the sound seeming to come out of every crevasse in his body. As the skin and muscle ripped off, he felt tears begin to prick in his eyes.

"Sit. Up. Straight."

Sam didn't respond, just closed his eyes and focused on breathing. It had been- what, fifteen minutes? If even that.

She dug her jagged fingernail into the wound, and Sam let loose a whimper-like noise, forcing himself not to scream again.

She dug the scalpel in, and off came more skin, more muscle, more _pain_.

And Sam sat up straight. He wasn't invincible.

"Good boy," she cooed, dragging a finger down his cheek, letting her fingernail slip into the gash there.

Sam grunted, but he didn't comment.

Getting back to work oh his side, she widened the hole, cutting away with the surgical blade.

All Sam could do was pray that Dean was coming, but he didn't have much hope. If the woman wasn't lying- and Sam didn't see why she would be- he wasn't even in the same building that his brother had been in. So he sat, feeling the blade, and nothing else.

-:-

Dean felt the drug wearing off after about twenty minutes of wandering aimlessly around the small city. As he felt a headache coming on, he ran back to the motel. Quickly downing three or so Advil, he opened up Sam's laptop and looked at the browsing history. Sam had seemed to think it was some chick named Priscilla Barnes, but Dean was pretty damn sure that whatever it was, it wasn't a ghost. It had shot friggin' _spikes_ out of its finger. Not normal ghost behavior. And after it drugged Dean, it had locked him in a building and told him that when he 'came around,' she'd play with him. Which was more than a little creepy.

While Sam might have been the better researcher of the two, Dean wasn't nothing. And when his little brother was on the line, well, there's not a lot he wouldn't do. So yeah, he could do a little research. _Dammit, Sam_, he thought, _why'd you have to stay and go after the thing?_

After a while- _too long_, he told himself- he found some creepy-ass website about old Xiongnu (which Dean had never heard of, but what gives, gives) lore, and it listed a monster called a Xingchou that took the form of a woman and shot spikes to drug or knock people out. It ate bits of internal organs, and had needle-like teeth in which to rip into flesh. The website was very thorough. More importantly, it showed how to get rid of it.

Well, how to appease it enough to make it go away for a couple centuries or so. Which, quite frankly, was good enough for Dean at the moment. He looked at the list. You had to have been a 'great warrior, taken many lives, and caused suffering.' At that, Dean smiled humorlessly. Check. Hell, he could get rid of the whole _population_ of Xingchous. The next thing you needed was a sword that had killed many things. The Xiongnu, it turned out, were very violent. In fact, according to the website at least, they were the reason the Great Wall of China was started. Oh, and they were the ancestors of the Huns.

Dean figured that a machete would work, as he was a little short on swords at the moment. The next thing was that one had to watch the Xingchou work for five minutes, silently.

And it gave a very gory description of what a Xingchou did to work. Swallowing, Dean read the rest. Then, stab it through the heart. Pretty straightforward.

Dean ran out to the car, checked to make sure nobody was watching, and pulled a machete out of the trunk. Slamming it, he retraced his footsteps.

According to the website, the only ones that could hear the Xingchou's victim were those who had already seen it. Anyone could hear the monster itself, but its victim was another story.

Five minutes later, when Dean arrived at the block, he found it out to be true. Sam's screams were loud enough.

-:-

For what seemed like an eternity, she chopped up and cut open the hole in his side.

As Sam was beginning to feel faint from blood loss, however, it got even worse.

She pulled out a lighter, and Sam's eyes widened.

Flicking it on, she poked it into the wound, waiting patiently as Sam yelled.

When he was caught on fire- he could actually smell himself burning, and it was disgusting- she blew on the flames slightly, enticing.

Sam just kept screaming, loud, terrified noises that ricocheted around and became so loud that he wondered if he was hearing himself at all, or if the screaming in his head had finally gotten the better of him.

After what felt like hours and hours, she put out the fire. Sweat rolled down Sam's face, and the slashes on his cheeks burned.

"Cauterized," the woman mused, unfazed by Sam's screaming. "Don't want you to bleed out."

"Yeah, I bet you don't," growled a voice from the shadows. "Cause then, I'm gonna have to kill you twice."

She whirled around, and Sam saw a glint as she fired a spike from her fingers.

"Nice try, but you got me like that the first time. Not gonna happen again," said the voice, and Sam realized that it was Dean.

Relief washed over him, and he sat limp in the chair, his many wounds throbbing painfully. A tear leaked out of his eye from pure relief.

Dean stepped out of the shadows, his face dark and stormy. Pure rage was directed at the woman, and he rushed her. With a grunt, Dean plunged the blade into the woman's heart. She collapsed, gasped, and faded away a little anticlimactically.

Rushing over, Dean undid Sam's bonds and helped his brother out of the chair. Sam could barely support himself, and he leaned on Dean heavily. "Dean," he moaned, his side in blinding pain from being forced to stand.

"I know," Dean said darkly, helping Sam gently out the door. "I saw."

Sam didn't know what Dean meant by 'I saw,' but he didn't question. Instead, he hobbled painfully back to the car, laying down on the backseat in relief.

They drove to the motel quickly, and Dean helped Sam onto his bed. "Just rest for now, okay?" he said worriedly. "I'll stitch you up in an hour or so when everything's completely stopped bleeding.

Sam moaned, and then fluttered his eyelids back open. "Priscilla," he said, suddenly remembering. If she hadn't been the one killing, then she must have been a victim herself...

Dean nodded grimly. "Yeah, I saw that on your laptop. We can go and put her to rest later, if you like."

Sam nodded, but the stress and anxiety were wearing off, and his badly taxed body needed rest. Within minutes, he was asleep.

-:-

Dean watched Sam sleep, frowning at the wince every time his brother took a breath, even while unconscious. He swore to himself to be more careful, because really, it was all his fault. If he hadn't been so damn _stupid_, Sam never would have gotten hurt.

But they would get through this. They had to, because nobody was going to get through it for them. And while things got bad all the time, somehow Sam managed to see the best of things. Dean didn't know how he did it, but he did. So as long as Sam was alive- and with Dean- he would be okay.

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><p>AN 2: _The stuff about the Xiongnu, that's all true. I made most of the stuff about the Xingchou up, thought, because I wanted to make it a scarier monster. Soooo, how did you like it? It's my first *official* casefic, so that's cool. If you have forty five seconds to spare in your life, you wanna leave a review? They're so awesome; I love hearing from you guys. Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Have a great day._

_-Jaq_


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